


The Singing Bone

by epkitty



Series: Claiming [2]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Explicit Language, F/F, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character(s), Story Arc, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Men being men, Eddie and Nick ignore that Christmas kiss. For now. Meanwhile a death in the woods means Nick needs Eddie's help, again. And Juliette starts to grow concerned about her relationship with Nick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

The body was a mess. The hikers who'd found it supposed a drop off a cliff would do that to flesh, but the experts knew better. He -- they were fairly certain that it had been a 'he' -- had been pretty well mauled by something sharp, murderous, and thorough.

Hank supposed it was a murder disguised to look like an accident, despite a deal of head-scratching about what _exactly_ had happened.

While Hank still stood and puzzled over the body, conversing with the equally perplexed coroner, Nick examined the frosted path above on the cliffside. Bloody smears in the rocky soil spoke of a quick exit for the victim, and further out, concealed beneath the leafy underbrush, large hoof-prints spoke of something beyond any human norm. "Damn," Nick muttered as he crouched, using his handspan to measure the forked prints.

=

When Eddie opened his door, Nick said, "So, what makes dinner-plate sized hoof-prints and tears hikers to pieces?"

Eddie sighed and gestured for Nick to come in. If Nick cast the briefest of glances to the ceiling before entering, he could be forgiven, but all signs of Christmas had been packed away by the beginning of February.

"Sounds like a Wilderbull," Eddie said as he led the way to the kitchen. "I was just mulling some cider. Want some?"

The chill that had descended that evening made the offer sound more enticing than Nick might otherwise have found it. "You bet."

So Eddie added more cider and spices to the pot steaming on the stovetop and said, "So, Wilderbullen. Closely related to Bauerschwein… well, in the same way a wolf is closely related to a Pekinese. Generally, they're feral. If they have a human identity at all, it's usually some run-down shack in the woods or the sketchy-looking RV at the end of the trailer park. Not usually this far north, though," Eddie said thoughtfully, head tilted to the side. "They generally make their homes much closer to the equator. But it isn't unheard of to find them in densely-wooded areas like Mt. Hood. Is that where--?"

"In the Waucoma Ridge Area, yeah. It was just around the Chinidere Mountain Hike."

"Pretty far out for this time of year," Eddie mused to himself. "Did you find anything besides prints?" he asked as he moved the wooden spoon in careful circles through the swirling cider.

"Like what?" Nick asked.

"Scat, wallows, signs of rooting."

"I, um," Nick didn't say he had very little idea of what those things would look like, "didn't cover a lot of ground."

"You want me to go out there, don't you?"

"Just for your opinion."

"Right," Eddie said, almost like a 'yes' as he poured out two sweetly steaming mugs. "Well, it'll be easy to determine if there's a Wilderbull out there. But I'd rather not come across one."

"Are they dangerous?"

"I believe you said the hiker was torn to pieces?"

"Right."

=

So apparently they were going to do the manly thing and forget that it had ever happened. That out-of-control Christmas kiss was neatly blotted out of existence.

If only.

Nick drove and Eddie studied the passing scenery all the way along I-84. Only limited conversation passed between them, Nick occasionally asking specifics about Wilderbullen, Eddie sporadically pointing out interesting miscellany along the roadside.

Eddie lost the argument over food, so they stopped at a gas station to grab snacks as they swung around the Hood River loop toward the park entrance.

"Isn't this a little out of your jurisdiction?" Eddie asked as they approached Wahtum Lake Trailhead, where they could park just at the entrance to the trails.

Nick nodded. "Park Rangers contacted our department specifically, after our dealing with the Holly Clark case." After they pulled into the empty lot, he popped the trunk so they could grab their gear.

"So, you're the go-to guy for murders in the woods. Fantastic."

Nick only smirked as he checked his bootlaces and then hefted his pack easily onto his back.

"How far out--?"

"The DB was found barely a mile in, just off the main trail. The couple who found it only noticed because crows had started in on the body, which drew their attention."

"An easy hike," Eddie observed as he wrapped a particularly ugly scarf around his neck. "Easier if it weren't so damn cold."

"This?" Nick asked, "This is practically balmy. That's why there are hikers out here at all in February, even if it is technically closed for the season. Be thankful it hasn't snowed much."

"Yeah? Well, let's hope it stays that way," Eddie grumbled, eyes upturned to the steel gray sky like a vault closed over the canopy above them.

Nick looked up. "It'll hold off."

"Grimm senses?"

"It's called positive thinking."

"Right," Eddie huffed as he dragged on his pack. "Let's go, then."

Nick led the way under the police tape at the trailhead and they kept up a steady pace while Eddie commented on the woods around them.

"Yeah, there's definitely something out here. It's faint though. Either far away or gone by now."

They hiked the switchback for less than half a mile until they reached the Pacific Crest Trail, which took them north around the east side of the lake.

"It's stronger here," Eddie said, slowing their pace. "And look at that," he said, coming to a full stop to point into the trees, away from the water.

Nick stopped and squinted. "Uh, what am I looking at?"

"See how the ground is all turned up, churned over. It's been looking for food. Must be desperate; I mean, the ground is hard as a rock this time of year. You ever try to dig in the frozen ground?"

"No…"

Eddie set down his pack and stepped off the trail, scouting around the scattered earth and underbrush.

"Should I… Do you want me to…"

"No need. I'll be just a minute," Eddie said. Then, he made a triumphant noise and trotted back over the frosty layer of fallen leaves to present Nick with a tuft of brownish hair. "That was caught in the bark of a chinkapin."

"A what-now?"

"Chinka… it's a tree. Nevermind. But look, it's been rubbing to leave its scent, and to scratch."

"Can you tell how long ago?" Nick asked, neither smelling nor noticing anything of interest about the fur.

"Not really. More than a couple days ago. Less than a week, judging by the state of the ground."

"All right," Nick said, wrapping the fur in a tissue to pocket it. "Let's push on."

Eddie narrated the rest of the walk with an essay on the various species of chinkapin trees, stopping occasionally to sniff the air.

"It's right up here," Nick said as they approached a turn in the trail that wound around a cliff's edge.

"Mmm. I can smell the blood," Eddie said, distaste showing on his features. "Dead blood."

"Dead blood?" Nick asked, skeptical.

"Yeah. The kind that's been laying around in a body, which is just gross. Not like the fresh---- You know, forget I said anything. Where are these tracks?"

"Right," Nick said, stopping to drop his pack and indicate the stretch of path before them, drag marks still evident in the loose, gravelly rock. "Even after the hikers and all the people tromping around to get at the crime scene, you can still see where someone was either pushed or dragged this way."

"Yup," Eddie said, crouching to examine the ground. He inched over to peer down the cliff that overlooked the lake. A steep drop of about thirty feet lay below them. The crushed underbrush at the bottom indicated where the body had lain better than the police tape did.

"Tracks are this way," Nick said, leading them away from the cliff and into the woods again.

That's when the sky opened up, and the snow began to fall.

"Well, shit. I told you," Eddie said as he dropped his pack and glared at Nick.

"No, you didn't," Nick argued.

"I implied it."

"Do you hear something?" Nick asked, suddenly alert as he turned toward the heaviest growth of trees.

"Again, you change the subject." Eddie sniffed. "I can barely smell the blood here, too. Blood spilled while someone was still alive, though."

"Hm," Nick said. They'd hardly gone a dozen paces before Nick kicked aside a pile of leaves to reveal the footprint, still clear in the hard earth. "I don't know of anything with hooves that big, so I covered it up."

"Probably for the best," Eddie agreed, kneeling on the hard-packed earth to sniff. But then he went still, his features melted into a wolfish face and he cocked his head, straining for something.

Nick crouched to hide from the unknown threat, and looked wildly around. He heard nothing, but he felt a weight on him. It was the distinct feeling of being watched, but he saw nothing except the still trees and softly falling snow. "What? What is it?" he whispered.

Eddie turned to look at him, fully human again. "It's out there."

"The Wilderbull?"

"Yeah. And it knows we're here. And I'm pretty sure it's pissed as fuck."

"Um, maybe we should have covered this earlier, but does it have any weakn--"

"Get down!" Eddie shouted as he tackled Nick to the ground as something huge galloped past them, its hooves thundering fit to shake the earth.

"The hell did it come from?!" Nick huffed as he jerked upright and regained his feet, gun already in hand.

"Dunno," Eddie muttered before he shifted again, hackles raised and claws outstretched.

They spun around until they saw it, shivering and huffing into the air, half-hidden behind a large cedar tree.

"Oh my God," Nick muttered, his aim faltering, for the thing he saw looked exactly like the minotaur of Greek myth.

It stood taller than any man on its gigantic cloven hooves. Muddy, thick-fingered hands clutched at the tree, and its bull head glared at them with a red light behind its demonic eyes; it lowered its great horns toward them as its hot breath misted the snow-touched air. Maddened eyes narrowed and the beastly snout lowed out the word, "Grrimmmmm…"

Eddie growled, a deep, animal noise that sounded a lot like 'Oh shit.'

Hooves stamped the hard-packed ground and the Wilderbull lowered its massive head, still gasping great plumes of breath into the air as it clopped sideways out from behind the tree.

Nick gathered himself and steadied his aim, trying to soften the ramping wildness approaching him. "Freeze! I have a gun trained and I don't want to use it. But I will. I need you to--"

The beast shook its frost-tinged mane and dug its hooves into the ground as it took off, charging wildly through the woods.

Nick fired his gun twice, but before he could tell if a hit had made contact, the beast was nearly on him and he dived out of the way, but not soon enough as he felt the harsh burn along his side. He hit the ground hard and his gun skittered off into the dead leaves and first light layer of snow.

His vision went black and then white before everything came into focus again as he took in a huge gasping breath and he heard the scrambling sounds of a fight. There was a howl and a yelp from Eddie and a low moan from the Wilderbull.

Nick raised his head just in time to see Eddie latch his fangs into the thing's arm and jerk viciously like a dog with a rat, if the rat was bigger than the dog.

Nick clasped a hand to his side to staunch the sharp burning and he felt the blood flow over his fingers. He resolutely didn't look down, but rolled to his knees and lurched up onto his feet with the aid of a bent sapling. "Monroe?"

Eddie dragged the thing to the ground as it huffed its last fetid breath into the falling snow.

The alien features receded in death, leaving a muddy, naked man laying in the new snowfall, two bullet holes in his chest and a nasty bite on his arm.

Nick stumbled forward and Eddie caught him as the wolflike features were blinked away, replaced by concerned human eyes. It made his bloody beard that much more disturbing.

"Damn, Nick; he got you?"

"Guess so," Nick murmured, finally lifting his own bloody hand away to look down at his side.

Eddie dropped to his knees and his nostrils flared, but calmed himself and lifted Nick's torn coat and shirts away. "Plenty of blood, but it's not too deep. Let's get you back to the trail; c'mon."

His arm slung over Eddie's shoulders, the Blutbad half-dragged, half-carried Nick back to the trail and sat him down - thump - on a low mound of earth.

"My bag's got a kit in it," Nick said as his vision wavered and the chilling cold leeched into his bones.

Eddie dumped Nick's pack out, things scattering everywhere, so he could grab the clearly-labeled first aid kit.

Nick reclined into the bushes, oblivious until some stinging liquid poured over the cut. He clenched his teeth and moaned, then sucked in harsh breaths as Eddie laid gauze across the graze, then unwound the ugly scarf from his neck to tie everything tightly, making Nick sit up to do so.

"Are you okay here? I need to take care of the body. Unless you want to explain to your superiors why a bullet from your gun was found in a naked man in the woods by the crime scene."

Nick lay back again and waved Eddie off.

"Don't loose too much blood," Eddie said. "You'll freak me out."

Nick looked up at the afternoon sky, a solid grey canvas overhead. The soft, peculiar sound of falling snow took over when Eddie's footsteps died off, and he blinked the dewy flakes away.

Nick couldn't have said how much time had passed, but the thin layer of snow had accumulated to an inch by the time Eddie returned, bending over him to ask, "Hey dude; you still alive?" His panicked tone belied the teasing question. The blood around his mouth had been washed away and his breath steamed the now-frigid air.

Nick lipped his lips and Eddie frowned down at him. After Eddie packed everything that had spilled into his pack and settled it and the empty one on his back, he hauled Nick (almost carefully) to his feet.

They edged their way back down the trail, Nick leaning heavily on Eddie, who remained stoically quiet, his eyes wild as he took in their surroundings and pointed out the obstacles that lay in the way.

"Careful, there's a step down here.

"Gotta keep clear of this branch, now.

"Let's go around this muddy patch."

"What-- ugh, what did you do… with the body."

"You stay quiet till we get to the car, okay? Don't worry about anything."

By the time they cleared the tree line and the car came within sight, Nick was pale and sweating, but his fingers were ice-cold, and Eddie didn't say a thing as he dug into Nick's pocket for the car keys. He laid a blanket out in the back seat and settled Nick in as gently as he could before tossing the packs into the trunk and jumping in the driver's seat.

The wipers cleared the snow from the windshield with a few passes and Eddie carefully steered his way down the dirt road until they came to the park's paved route. "All right, which hospital do you--"

"No hospitals."

"Hospital," Eddie told him firmly.

"No, I think I'm gonna be okay, I just… no one can know what happened out here. Where's the body, Eddie?"

Eddie sighed and stared at the snow-glare of the headlights. "I was right about the wallows. That's why he was so muddy, seemed to come out of nowhere. There were a few stagnant pools gathered up in the hard ground that he'd churned over into wallows and he was just laying there, watching us. I found the deepest one and rolled him in. It's off the path… maybe a hundred yards? There's no reason for anyone to go out that way. If we're lucky, everything will freeze over and in the spring, it will firm up into a marshy bog that no one would go near anyway."

"Okay."

"So where am I taking you?"

"Your place."

"Really?"

"Please, Eddie. I just want to clean up before Juliette sees me, get a better look at it."

"A better look?" Eddie asked, incredulous. "Nick, you were practically gored by a Wilderbull. You don't want a better look, trust me."

"Will you take me to your place?"

Eddie snarled, "Fine," and Nick didn't say another word.

=

Dark had fully fallen by the time Eddie pulled up to his house, and the snow had become a cold rain in these lower elevations. He cast a baleful eye about the neighborhood, but everyone had been driven into their homes by the weather.

"Nick?" he half-whispered. "We're here."

"Hm? Oh," Nick croaked, pulling himself into a sitting position with the utmost care.

When Eddie came around to help him out of the vehicle, Nick did not hesitate to take his hand and then lean heavily on him along the path and up the porch steps. Eddie fumbled to unlock the door and then they did an awkward dance of 'you first,' 'no you.'

"You're looking better than you were an hour ago," Eddie observed as he helped haul Nick upstairs to the bathroom.

"Dunno," Nick wondered, "I feel kinda numb."

"Is that good or bad?" Eddie asked.

"Hell if I know."

Eddie closed the toilet lid so Nick could sit. They worked together to remove the torn coat, but at Nick's bidding, Eddie took a pair of scissors to the flannel button-down and the t-shirt beneath it, as Nick admitted, "They're done-for anyway. Dunno what I'll tell Juliette. She got me that shirt for Christmas."

Eddie hmmed and then warned Nick, "I'm gonna untie the scarf now. Hm. Looks like that's ruined, too."

"Not much of a loss," Nick said with a wry smile. "I think it was due for the trash anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that is the ugliest fucking scarf I have ever seen."

"Something someone's 'stodgy old grandfather' would wear?"

"Yup."

Eddie took a small amount of pleasure at Nick's wince when the scarf was pulled free of the wound, releasing the tension that had bound it.

"I need to check the wound," Eddie said. "I'm gonna use some antiseptic to loosen the gauze and… Nick, if it looks infected, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Nick sighed and nodded. "I understand."

"I imagine this is gonna hurt."

"S'alright," Nick slurred. "Just do it."

Nick clenched his teeth against the sting and groaned aloud each time he felt his skin try to pull away from his body, but Eddie worked slowly and carefully until the mass of bandages came away in his hand.

"How about that," Eddie wondered.

"What?"

"Nick, I think you're gonna be fine."

"Really?"

Eddie disposed of the bandages and carefully washed his hands in the sink before he dug a mirror out of a drawer and held it so Nick didn't have to twist to look at his side.

"It-it stopped bleeding," Nick wondered. "And it looks fine, no redness or swelling or anything."

"I guess what they say is true," Eddie said, putting the mirror away.

"What's true?"

Eddie ruthlessly looked anywhere but at Nick as he spoke. "Haven't you ever wondered about why you can see the creatures? I mean, did you really think that's all there is to being a Grimm?"

"I… I did kind of wonder about that," Nick admitted, reaching down to touch the slash along his side.

Eddie struck out and grabbed his hand before he could. "What are you doing, dumb-ass? Your hands are filthy. Let me tape some plastic over that so you can take a shower, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."

=

"I don't exactly have any extra beds up here," Eddie told Nick, who was wearing only an overlong pair of gray sweatpants, but moving slowly under his own power along the upstairs hall. "So, the couch will have to do if you're still adamant about staying here."

"Couch is fine," Nick said, nearly asleep on his feet as they made their way downstairs.

Eddie quickly threw a few blankets down and refrained from helping Nick, who gingerly sat and then just stared at nothing. "I'm dying of thirst," Nick said.

"Right! Let me get you some water. Not too much though. Don't need you getting sick all over my couch."

Nick grinned and said, "Thanks, Eddie," even though the Blutbad had already disappeared into the kitchen.

While Nick drank his water and got comfortable on the couch, Eddie went back upstairs, eager to rid the place of the scent of Nick's blood as soon as he could. Anything that could soak went in the sink with way more soap than it needed. Everything else was tied up into triple-layer trash bags and taken outside. He collected Nick's things: gun and holster, badge and wallet, keys and cell phone -- to set them on the coffee table while Nick slept.

With his charge resting, Eddie took a shower himself. Then -- bundled up in sleep pants and bathrobe -- went through the calmest motions he knew: making tea.

At last, he could take his guardian position in the armchair nearest Nick's head, sipping hot tea that was too sweet, and let his eyelids slowly drift closed.

Eddie was finally letting the adrenaline nosedive down into fatigue when the shrill ring of Nick's cellphone broke the silence. Eddie scrambled like a mad clown to set down the tea without burning himself and get to the phone before the horrible screech of it could wake Nick.

He pressed several wrong buttons before the ring stopped and Eddie held the phone quickly to his ear, whispering, "Um, hi?"

"Who's this?" a female voice demanded.

"Well, who's calling?"

"Juliette. Nick's _girlfriend_."

"Oh! Oh hi, ma'am." He winced, knowing immediately he'd said the wrong thing. "Uh, I'm Nick's… friend? Eddie." That probably shouldn't have sounded like a question.

"Nick's never mentioned you," the suspicious female voice told him.

"Yeah, well, Nick's here," Eddie tried to steer the conversation somewhere safer, "at my place, but he's asleep."

"He said he'd be home by midnight or he'd call."

"Well, he…" Eddie thought very quickly. "He got into a bit of a bar fight, so I brought him home and patched him up. He's conked out on the couch. I think he really needs the sleep."

Eddie held the phone away when something that resembled shrieking emitted from the earpiece.

By this point, Nick was awake, looking at him with fatigued but still devilish amusement.

"No, he doesn't have a concussion…. because I just know…. No, I'm not a doctor…. well, because I can! _*sigh*_ …No, no vomiting." He glanced at Nick. "His pupils are _fine_. I will tell him you called when he wakes up. …Yes. …Yes, ma'am--miss, I mean-- Juliette. …Oh, I promise. …Yes. …Yes. Goodnight… Goodnight." He punched the call to an end and tossed the phone back on the table, shooting a look at Nick, just daring him to say something.

"I can't wait to explain to Juliette why I got into a _bar fight_."

"Would you rather explain to her why you were nearly gored by a Wilderbull?"

Nick huffed, but conceded, "Good point."


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Hank have to sort out the dead body from the woods, and Nick encounters a new sort of creature. Oh, and Eddie finally meets Juliette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about police procedure I learned from police procedurals. So... suspension of disbelief is a plus here. Find the shout-out to VampirePam's "Hotel California"!

In the morning, Nick donned what remained of his clothes, which was pretty much everything below the waist and nothing above it, so he also pulled on an over-long but very soft blue sweater of Eddie's. He managed the drive home without fuss and only walked a little slower than usual to the front door, where Juliette was waiting.

She opened the door. "I heard you pull up; I'm glad you're home. Are you okay?"

Nick winced as he pulled himself up the porch steps, but then smiled. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Glad to be home."

She slipped her arms around him, but didn't squeeze as she kissed him and then laid her head briefly on his shoulder. "C'mon, Nick. Let me get you something for breakfast."

"Just cereal is fine. I know you have to get to work."

She pressed her lips together but nodded.

At the kitchen table, Nick ate like a wound-down automaton.

"Eat any slower and that'll turn to mush."

"It's fine," Nick said.

Juliette sighed. "Nick. What's going on with you?"

Nick set his spoon in the bowl and looked up. "What do you mean?"

Juliette scrubbed a weary hand over her face. "These hours you're keeping, not telling anyone where you're going… injuries and… I don't even know what."

"It's nothing. It's just my job, Jules. You know that there are times like this."

"Times when I have to worry about you and times when you can't tell me what's going on; I know that. But getting in bar fights? Hanging out with some guy you've never told me about--"

"Eddie's the guy, you know, that guy I visited on Christmas. We get together sometimes; he's, uh, a consultant on a few jobs I've had."

"Oh." Her tone was suddenly friendlier.

"We just went out for a drink. I don't even know who started the fight, but some guy had a knife--"

"A _knife_ , Nick!?"

"It's no big deal. You can see I'm fine."

"But for how long? You were never reckless like this. And I'm going to check you over before I go anywhere this morning."

A muscle ticked in Nick's jaw. "Okay."

=

Eddie Monroe opened the door to reveal Nick's worried face. The Blutbad glowered. "Now what?"

"It's Juliette. She wants you to come over for dinner."

"No." Eddie started to close the door, but Nick's booted foot darted forward to intercept it.

"I don't think you understand. When someone like Juliette gets determined, there is no weaseling out of it."

"I don't do dinner. And I don't do girlfriends. …Wait. That didn't come out right. Um, but I didn't mean--"

"Tomorrow," Nick interrupted, "seven o'clock."

Eddie closed the door. "Shit." He opened the door again. "You know, I _did_ make it into the twentieth century. I _have_ a phone."

"It's the twenty-first century. And, well, it's easier to say no to someone on the phone. Seven o'clock! Tomorrow!" he yelled when Eddie closed the door again.

=

Eddie brought a bottle of merlot and wore what he thought might be his least old-fashioned sweater. He cleared his throat, took a bracing breath, and drew himself up to his full height before he knocked on the door. But if he had a tail, it would have been tucked between his legs.

"No, let me get it," he heard Juliette's voice on the other side of the door. Footsteps, then: there she was, framed in the doorway, trim and pretty with a lipstick smile. "So, you're Eddie. Please come in, let me take that-- oh! This is great; merlot is my favorite. Nick, why don't you open this and pour out three glasses for us? Eddie, come on in to the living room and sit with me. It is nice to meet you; I didn't realize you'd been working with Nick. He finally told me a little about you."

"Not too much, I hope."

Juliette laughed sweetly, the ideal hostess.

"Jules! The sauce is boiling over!"

Juliette jumped to her feet. "Then turn it down!" she yelled back, heading for the kitchen on light feet.

Eddie sat stiffly, trying not to listen to the low conversation from the other room, but his senses were on high alert, and he couldn't tune them out.

 _"Oh, c'mon; that's not boiling over. Silly."_

 _"Sorry. I guess I'm just nervous."_

 _"What do you have to be nervous about? I'm the one who's never met him."_

 _"Yeah. Um, if you've got that--"_

 _"Oh, go take him his wine, you overprotective manly man."_

 _"You're the only one who thinks I'm a manly man."_

Nick slouched in, two wine glasses in hand. "I didn't realize she was going to turn this into such a production. Actually, I think she's a little nervous."

"Oh, really?" Eddie asked, taking his wine glass. "What did you tell her?"

"Um, I guess I told her that you're… uh, a lonely guy who really loves Christmas and has helped me out on a few cases."

"And gets you into bar fights."

Nick smiled and muttered, "I believe that was your invention."

They offered one another awkward smiles.

Nick looked over his shoulder and bit his lip at the silence. "I hope pasta is all right," he offered.

"Sure. Pasta's good."

Juliette poked her head in the room. "Salad's ready, boys."

"Shall we?" Nick asked.

Eddie smirked and they headed into the dining room. Clutching their wine glasses like security blankets, they each found a place at the table.

Juliette offered a variety of dressings and Nick snagged the ranch. Eddie chose the vinaigrette and asked some inane question about the crumbly cheese on top of the lettuce and arugula. Then he realized he was more out of practice with small talk than he'd thought. Fortunately, dinner gave them the opportunity to talk about food and cooking, which Eddie was reasonably adept at. In fact, he and Juliette left Nick in the dust when they got onto the subject of ricers and food savers.

After that, Eddie steered Juliette toward the subject of her work, which got him off the conversational hook for as long as he could look interested.

By the time their plates held nothing but swirled sauce and small pieces of pasta too small to fit on a fork, their words had run out.

Juliette looked to her boyfriend. "Nick, why don't you clear the table for me?"

"Oh," he looked between her and Eddie. "All right," he tentatively agreed, pushing out his chair and collecting the dishes.

Juliette watched him leave, then turned to Eddie. "So, I think everyone's heard enough about me. What is it that you do for a living?"

"I'm a clockmaker."

"Really?! Nick said you're a consultant. Why do the police need to consult a clockmaker?"

"Oh! Well…" Eddie's mind raced as he looked toward the kitchen in hopes of Nick's return. "I used to be a drug dealer -- they never suspect the guy in a sweater vest -- anyway, that's all behind me now, but… I still have certain connections. You know, useful intel the police don't have access to. Oh, there you are, Nick! Never told her I was a drug dealer, huh? No wonder he never told you about me; I mean, really, who would? …So, how about that dessert?"

=

Juliette peered out the window, watching Eddie slouch down the sidewalk to his funny little car. "He's a strange man, isn't he?" she quietly asked.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess," Nick said, joining her at the window. "He kind of grows on you, though."

She smiled as she leaned into Nick and half-closed her eyes. "You're a good guy, Nick. Not every cop would give the drug-dealing clockmaker a chance at friendship."

"Uh, yeah," Nick agreed, privately thinking that she didn't know the half of it.

The trill of Nick's cellphone broke their brief tranquillity. Juliette sighed and broke away, heading back to the kitchen as she said over her shoulder, "Aaannnnnd... you have to get that."

Nick pulled out his cell to see the caller's name on the screen. "Yes I do," he said. "Hey, Hank."

"Nick, we've got an ID on the vic."

=

Nick had barely had a chance to hang up his coat before Hank accosted him. "Victim was Gerald Springs, a parolee. When he didn't make his weekly phone call, his parole officer called it in. Once forensics had a name, they could match the prints, and we got ourselves a positive ID. We've got the parole officer in a room right now. You ready?"

Nick nodded. "You think I'll forget you're making me skip my morning coffee, Hank. But I won't. I won't forget that."

Hank slapped his upper arm, smiling. "C'mon."

Hank led the way to the interrogation room, but as Hank preceded him into the room, Nick slowed, felt his heart speed, felt his breath slow, felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise when he saw the woman seated there facing away from him. Tall, thin, ash blond, unremarkable. Then the spine stiffened, the head turned on willowy shoulders and she saw Nick.

Already pale eyes misted over to mossy bog-like spheres, blonde hair turned seaweed-tangled and gray. Her skin bleached of color and sharp teeth were bared in his direction as long, white fingers clutched at the desk.

In all of this, Nick saw only fear and so he slowly approached and offered a steady hand. "I'm Detective Nick Burkhardt. You've met Hank Griffin? Thank you for meeting us."

The creature traits receded, leaving in their place a beauty too sharp to be purely feminine, too cold to be truly beautiful. She declined to take the extended hand, but said, "I'm Birgit Hoffman. You found my parolee."

Hank and Nick sat across from Birgit and Hank corrected her, "A pair of hikers found him, in the Waucoma Ridge Area."

"We're investigating his death," Nick said.

"Was it murder?" she asked.

"We… can't reveal information about an ongoing case," Hank said. "But, you are here to help. Cause of death is… unconfirmed at this point."

Birgit pulled her mouth into a grimace and then took a moment to collect herself. She said quietly, "I heard it was gruesome."

There was nothing to say to that.

"Gerald Springs loved to hike," she told them. She was calm and cold now, emotion wiped away. "He was found guilty of -- and imprisoned for -- two counts of aggravated assault. He'd served time previously for assault and battery, and aggravated larceny. Since he was released, Gerald had been attending anger management classes, seeing a therapist, and on a solid medication. He was troubled, yes, but not a bad man."

"Did he have any enemies?" Hank asked.

"I can't think of anyone who would have wanted to kill him," she said, staring hard at Nick.

"Did he have any family?" Nick asked.

"He grew up on Long Island. Most of his family is still there. He has a brother in Madison and grandparents in Florida, but he hasn't been close to any of them in years. He never married, nor had any romantic attachments I'm aware of."

"And when was the last time you saw Mr. Springs?" Hank asked.

Birgit pulled a personal planner out of her purse and opened to a calendar page displaying the month of February. "We had a meeting three weeks ago, February third. A Friday. That was the last time I saw him, but he calls every Monday to check in. And he called me last Wednesday -- the twenty-second -- to tell me his plans for the hike. That was the last time I spoke to him."

"Was that unusual?" Hank asked.

"No. I encourage all my parolees to let me know if they're going to be away from home at all, or vary their routine greatly. Gerald knew the trails were closed, but he's a very capable outdoorsman. I wasn't worried."

"What did he tell you on that phone call?" Hank asked.

"He was excited because the snow had receded enough for hiking. He said he'd be driving up to the Chinidere trails to find one that looked promising."

"There was a tent in the pack we recovered," Hank pointed out.

"The cold didn't bother him much," Birgit said simply.

"Would you be able to identify the bag or tent?" Nick asked.

Birgit slowly shook her head. "No… Wait. He e-mailed me a picture of his campsite during the summer. If it's the same gear, I might recognize it."

Nick leaned forward. "Instead of lugging all that stuff up here, would you be willing to come down to evidence lockup to take a look?"

"If it will help, yes."

"We're just trying to piece together what happened," Nick assured her as he stood.

Birgit pulled a paper from her planner. "I brought a copy of his schedule, and the names and numbers of his therapist and anyone else he associated with; it's not a long list."

"Hank," Nick said, "would you follow up on that while I take Ms. Hoffman down to evidence?"

"Sure."

After obtaining the necessary forms, Nick led the way down the hall to the elevator. Once inside, Birgit stood as far away from him as she could, and let out a sigh of relief when an officer joined them.

Nick and Birgit stepped out one floor down. They were alone in the dark, narrow halls. When the elevator doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dreary, windowless place, Birgit did not move, but glared fearfully down at Nick from behind blonde hair that took on a stringy, tangled appearance under his gaze. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked.

Nick's first impulse was to tell her that even if he intended to, a cop really couldn't murder a parole officer in cold-blood at the police station, but he could see how that wouldn't exactly be a comfort. He also wanted to ask what she was, if she was really a parole officer, if she was like Eddie. Instead, he simply asked, "Do you hurt people?"

"No."

"Then I'm not going to do anything to you. I… I'm not like the stories you've heard. And look," he nodded to a dark corner behind him, "there are cameras down here if you're worried. No microphones though." He took a conspiratorial step forward and lowered his voice. "Listen, I have to tell you: Gerald Springs was killed by a Wilderbull."

"What?! In Oregon?"

"I went out there three days ago to see what I could find." He turned to place his good side more carefully toward the shadowed camera, and briefly lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal the lightly bandaged wound. "Got me pretty good. I tried to apprehend him, but he was too far gone. I had to shoot him. …I thought you'd want to know."

Birgit nodded solemnly, a film of tears showing in her pale eyes. "So Gerald's murder will become a cold case. At least I know what to tell his family, if they care. …He was a Blutbad."

"Really?"

"A Wieder-Blutbad," she elaborated. "I don't know if that changes anything. Dead is dead, I suppose."

Nick clenched his jaw in sympathy, but then asked, "Did Mr. Springs ever say anything about Wilderbullen?"

"Not that I recall. But if Gerald stumbled on what this Wilderbull considered his territory, there wasn't much he could have done. Not if he was taken by surprise, weighed down by all that gear."

"Speaking of which, let's take a look at that evidence." Nick led the way through the narrow halls to the evidence desk and handed over the form for the requested items.

A minute or so later, a trolley was wheeled out from behind a locked door. It contained a torn orange backpack and camouflage-patterned tent, along with other hiking and camping paraphernalia. The smaller items had been bagged. Many were still spattered with blood.

Birgit's nose wrinkled and she said, "They're his. I'll… I'll find the e-mail with the photo he sent and forward it to you."

"We'd appreciate that," Nick said. He retrieved a pair of latex gloves from the desk. "You'll have to wear these if you want to examine anything."

She slowly pulled them on as her pale gaze perused the ripped bag and collapsed tent.

"Once your alert allowed us to identify him, we could track down his car. It had been parked in a different lot. But his wallet was inside. Our forensics team retrieved all of that yesterday, but it's still being processed, so those things aren't down here yet."

Birgit nodded in understanding as her gloved fingers traced the sharp tear in the bright backpack. "Took him from behind. He didn't have a chance."

"I'm sorry for your loss. …Most parole officers don't seem so close to…"

Birgit glanced at the desk attendant, but he was busy. She lowered her voice. "Most of my parolees are creatures. We come from an old world, from times when hiding was much easier. The real killers, maybe they deserve the death that a Grimm deals out. But the rest of us are just trying to live. It's harder for some than others. Gerald was a good man from a bad family, and he's been trying for years to find a balance in his life. He genuinely wanted to be… good. And I wanted to help him. That's what I do."

"It's good work," Nick said. "I'm glad there are people like you. Someone who can… stand between two worlds in an effort to connect them."

She glanced aside at him. "I can't figure you out," she said. "You were right. You're nothing like the stories I heard as a girl."

"Maybe we can trust each other, then. Work together?"

She did not answer immediately, as she picked through the bags; compass and pocketknife, flashlight and paperback. "If the need arises," she agreed, picking up the paperback book in its clear, labeled bag. "Fairytales," she mused. "A page has been marked. Do you know what it was?"

"No. We can't break the seal, but if there's enough room…"

Working together, they could open the book within its plastic enough to see what story had been bookmarked. "The Singing Bone," Birgit said.

"Do you know the story?" Nick asked.

"Don't you?"

"Uh…"

"You're new at this, aren't you?"

Nick tried not to take offense. "Not _that_ new."

"The story has variations, of course. They all do. But it's about three brothers who set out on a quest to kill a wild boar that's been terrorizing the kingdom. The youngest succeeds, but the two eldest kill him and dump his body in the river in order to take the glory and the prize themselves. When one of the youngest brother's bones is revealed in the riverbank, a shepherd carves it into an instrument and when he plays it, the bone sings the truth:

Oh shepherd dear,  
Play true and clear;  
Twas my brothers two  
Who ran me through  
And you play upon my bones.

They took the boar  
For jewels and more:  
The king's daughter.  
Now my grave's the water  
And you play upon my bones.

"The older brothers are condemned, drowned in the river as punishment for their crime."

Nick's brow furrowed in contemplation. "Kind of… gruesome, for a fairytale."

"Many fairytales are more gruesome than that."

"Do you think it has anything to do with Gerald Spring's death?"

"It's just a story, Detective. Barely enough truth can be culled from the old tales to have any meaning for us now." She looked at him. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't read them."

=

"I've got a question," Nick said when Eddie opened the door.

"Shocking. Come in."

"Thanks. So, the DB in the woods was a Blutbad."

"Huh," Eddie said.

"He was a parolee, but get this: his parole officer is some kind of creature, but I couldn't find her in any of my Aunt's books."

"Well, some rarer creatures have taken care to avoid getting themselves into those books. And Grimms don't always concern themselves with the more innocent creatures. Not there's much discrimination." He acknowledged Nick with a nod, "Usually. So?" he asked as he took his seat at his workbench.

"So?" Nick echoed.

"So," Eddie said, "what did she look like?" Eddie put on his glasses and readjusted the magnifying lens as he bowed over his brightly lit work surface.

"Creepy. Like… almost like a corpse that had been in the water, but thin. Bony, really. Pale eyes, ashy skin, tangled gray hair. Her human appearance was pleasant enough, but still… frigid-looking. Unapproachable."

"And her creature side: lots of sharp teeth? Abnormally long fingers?" Eddie asked as his fine tools manipulated the innards of an antique cuckoo clock.

"Yeah."

"Did she smell?"

"Smell? No, I don't remember smelling anything on her."

"Good," Eddie said, still absorbed with his work. "That means she's a Weisseweibchen, and not a Grünanne. They look a lot alike, but Grünannen smell foul - like brine - and they like to drown people: it's their life's work, you might say. Rare now though, since most have been killed off. No great loss, in my opinion. Weisseweibchens, on the other hand, are almost always helpers, especially known for helping children. Their name means white female, or white woman, not to be confused with the urban legend of the Woman in White. They get the shit-end of the stick sometimes, because they're water sprites like the Grünannen, and they look a hell of a lot alike. I'm no expert though. I've never met a Green Annie -- that's what the English call 'em. But there was an old Weisseweibchen in my neighborhood when I was growing up. She was real sweet, always looked out for us kids."

"So I can trust her?"

Eddie shrugged. "As much as any Grimm can trust a creature."

Nick stared at the Blutbad, hunched over his cogs and gears. "I do trust you, Eddie."

Eddie did not turn around, but shook his head as though baffled. "I know."


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is plagued by insomnia as he struggles with balancing two duties: a job and a destiny.

**Cause of death - unconfirmed.**

Nick stared at the report in front of him, a black look set deep in his face.

It wasn't unconfirmed. He knew exactly what happened, could picture it in his head:

 _Gerald Springs: a half-tame Blutbad attacking the trails on a brisk winter morning. Maybe he was running, or whistling. Maybe the Wilderbull's scent was dulled by the cold or hidden under the mud. Maybe Gerald Springs was too distracted by the nature surrounding him to notice a threat._

 _The Wilderbull: savage, naked, hungering and territory-blind. Maybe he was watching the trail or just sitting in his wallows. Maybe he would have let a human pass, maybe not._

 _Hooves pound into the earth, great horns lower, breath steams the air. Maybe Gerald Springs didn't notice anything until his gear was ripped from him as easily as his skin. Maybe he didn't even have time to shift into a form more conducive to survival._

 _But he probably screamed. Nick remembered the burn of his own flesh after the numb-sharp swipe from the Wilderbull. Nick is pretty sure Gerald Springs would have screamed._

 _His blood would have spattered the ground like a Jackson Pollack painting. He would have scrabbled at the earth when the Wilderbull pushed him toward the cliff. Hopefully, he didn't think or feel anything when those horns caught at his face and tore._

 _Nothing but some dragged gravel and gathering crows to alert the old couple on their winter hike in the woods._

 **Cause of death - unconfirmed.**

=

Eddie was just pulling the half-batch of muffins from the oven when the phone rang. He set down the tin, closed the oven door, tugged off the rooster oven mitt, and picked up the phone. "Y'ello?"

"…Monroe."

"Hey. You remembered I have a phone. Congratulations."

"…Can I come over?"

"Since when do you ask?"

"I mean… is it a bad time?"

"Um, noooo." Eddie's face pulled into a confused frown. "Just made muffins. Come over now and they'll still be hot."

"…Thanks," Nick said before the call clicked to an end.

Eddie stared at the phone as though to decipher something hidden there. "Weird," he said.

=

"You look like shit," Eddie said after inviting the Grimm into his home.

"Thanks," Nick said in a tone so unemotional, it was either faked or bone-tired.

"Okay then," Eddie said. "There's coffee and muffins."

"You're a god."

"Kitchen," Eddie told him, and physically turned Nick in that direction and gave him a little shove to get him moving. "Late to be coming home from work," Eddie observed. "Juliette kick you out for being mopey?"

"I'm not mopey," Nick said, plucking two warm muffins off the sidebar and plopping into a seat. "And I haven't been home yet. I missed dinner. …I bet she's pissed."

"I bet she is," Eddie agreed. "And you should have more than coffee and muffins if you missed dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Nick said as he shoved the second muffin into his mouth.

"Oh yeah? You thought about breathing between muffins?"

"No. There's too much blood in my coffee-stream."

"I have a mug that says that," Eddie said, retrieving said mug and filling it to the brim. "Here you go."

"I told you you're a god, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Yeah…" Nick said.

"So. When was the last time you slept?"

"You mean… in hours?"

"I mean however you're choosing to measure time at the moment."

"I sleep. Not, you know…."

Eddie stared in awe at Nick, whose reality seemed to have shifted into an entirely different paradigm. One of the Grimm's hands gripped the coffee mug, the other was sticky with muffin crumbs. His eyes glazed over as though peering into an absent dreamworld. Eddie asked, "Are you gonna finish that sentence, or just leave it hanging there?"

Nick turned to blink at him before awareness returned. "Can I sleep on your couch?" Nick whined. It was definitely a whine.

"Well, I don't know how you managed to drive _here_ in your state, so, yeah, if you want."

"Will you--"

"I am _not_ calling Juliette."

"Riiiiiight. That's not what I was gonna--- No. I lied. That's totally what I was gonna ask."

"Dude, it's like you're _wasted_."

"I've never been high."

"And this is me being shocked," Eddie said. He stood and opened the fridge.

"Whatcha doing?"

"I'm getting you some real food before you crash."

"Oh."

Eddie pulled a number of green things from the crisper and deftly assembled a salad. "You want some baco-bits?"

"Mm… Bacon," Nick agreed.

"Okay, then."

Eddie set the be-baconed salad in front of the Grimm. "Eat that. You've devolved to one-word sentences, so it looks like I'm going to call your girlfriend."

Nick slid his phone across the table.

"You," Eddie said, punctuating his statement with an accusatory finger, "are a wimp."

Nick either could not or would not answer around his mouthful of sprouts, arugula, and bacon bits.

Eddie looked up Juliette's name in Nick's phone and dutifully punched the 'call' button, though perhaps with more force that was strictly necessary.

 _"Nick."_

"Sorry, Juliette; it's Eddie. Nick's at my place. He looks like he's about to crash, so he's gonna hang with me tonight."

 _"….How long has he been there?"_

"Ten minutes, maybe? Uh, has he been sleeping?"

 _"Not what you would call regularly."_

"Right. Well, if he gets to sleep now, that'll give him a good ten hours of sleep, at least."

 _*sigh* "Thanks, Eddie."_

"No problem."

 _"Is this a guy thing?"_

"I don't know what this is. Cop thing?"

 _"Yeah. Probably."_

"Alright. Well, I'm sorry. Have a good night."

 _"Yeah. You, too. Tell Nick… oh, don't tell him anything. He probably won't remember it in the morning anyway."_

"Right."

By the time this conversation was finished, so was the salad, and Eddie filled a tall glass of water for Nick. "Drink that."

"Coffee," Nick grunted, glaring at the empty mug.

"You drink the water, I'll refresh the coffee. Deal?"

Nick groaned and drank the water. After he drained half the glass, he asked, "Why… do you have baco-bits?"

"Selfish indulgence." Eddie refilled the coffee mug.

Nick drank more water, then more coffee.

Eddie watched him. "You know where the bathroom is," Eddie said. "If I were you, I'd take a piss."

"Right," Nick said, slowly pushing himself to his feet.

After he stumbled off, Eddie set to his most creative grumbling as he retrieved blankets and a pillow, as well as a soft, gray henley.

When Eddie looked up from the couch, Nick was standing there, staring.

Eddie screamed, but not like a girl.

"You scream like a girl," Nick told him.

"How are you so quiet?! I thought you were dead to the world!"

"Doesn't mean I'm dead. Is that for me?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I thought you'd want something less-- more… Uh, something to sleep in. It gets chilly down here at night." Eddie held out the henley.

Nick did not take it or otherwise acknowledge the Blutbad, but instead starting stripping.

"I'll just leave that there, then," Eddie slowly said as Nick's clothing accumulated on the floor. Coat. (Stretch.) Shirt. (Arms.) Undershirt. (Chest.) He started to slip off his jeans. Eddie licked his lips and then said, "Might want the boots first."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. He sat on the couch in his boxers with his jeans around his knees. He was liable to fall asleep that way.

"Honestly," Eddie said as he kneeled and began pulling stiff laces from their knots, "I've led a pretty weird life. But that was nothing compared to knowing you, Nick. Working with a Grimm," he shook his head. The knots came free and he loosened the laces. "But this? This might be the strangest night of my life."

"Uh-huh."

Eddie pulled off boots, then belted jeans, and finally damp socks. "Oh, my god. How long have you been wearing these?"

"Dunno."

"Right," Eddie said, carefully gathering all the laundry into a pile. "Let me just… I really need to wash my hands."

When he returned to the den, Nick had not moved, just sat in his boxers, staring at the dark fireplace. "You really are gonna be the death of me," Eddie murmured. "Arms up," he said as he approached.

Nick dutifully raised his arms and Eddie none-too-kindly shoved his arms into the henley's sleeves and pulled it down over his chest, then more carefully settled it over the still-healing scar from the Wilderbull. "Lay down," Eddie instructed gruffly. He pulled the blankets over Nick's prone form. "Death of me," he muttered again.

"Wha-huh?" Nick asked.

"I'm gonna wash your clothes."

"Don't wash my clothes. You've done'nuff."

"You're slurring. You're tired. Sleep, Nick."

"Why'm I tired? Coffee. Coffee perks you up."

"That was decaf."

"You bastard."

"Yup."

"Are we friends?"

"Oh my _god_ ," Eddie said. " _Seriously_ , go to sleep."

"I need a friend to talk to."

"Hank. Talk to Hank. Better yet, talk to Juliette, your girlfriend, the one you should be sleeping with. …Wait--"

"A Grimm-friend." Nick clarified. "Who knows about Grimm stuff."

Eddie sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, took a very deep breath, sat down in the arm chair, and looked at Nick. "What stuff?"

"I don't think I can do it," he confided, huge eyes peering out over the blanket's edge.

"Do what, Nick?" Despite his intentions, Eddie's question came out soft and encouraging. It was those puppy-dog eyes, dammit.

"The cop/Grimm thing. They don't… I thought they would complement each other. They don't. I'm going to lie everyday of my life. And someday I'm going to have to take a life to save another, and no one will know why. That's a situation just waiting to happen. Maybe a jogger gets too close to some kid playing basketball, but I'm the only one who sees the fangs. Maybe a drunk gets too close to a girl in a bar, and I'm the only one who sees the claws. Eddie. It's going to happen. I can't be a cop. I… it's all I ever wanted when I was kid. I was always that kid. The good one, the one who broke up the fights, the one who devoured detective stories. I read all the Hardy Boys…"

"Nick…"

"But if you're my friend, I think it'll be okay." Nick's eyes closed.

Eddie was floored.

He thought Nick was asleep, but -- eyes still closed -- Nick whispered, "Gonna lose Juliette, too. I know what my aunt meant now. Have to quit my job. Have to let her go. Not gonna let you…"

Light snores broke the air after a moment of silence.

"Well," Eddie said. " _Shit_."

=

Eddie did Nick's laundry, cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the toilet, took a shower, masturbated fiercely, sorted his watchband pins, debated about practicing his cello (decided not to, lest it wake his sleeping charge), folded Nick's laundry, and checked the time. It was one in the morning and he was almost tired.

Nick had not moved, and his snores persisted. Eddie stood over him, studying the prone form: drooping brown hair, boyish features lax in sleep, wired strength at rest beneath forest green blankets.

Eddie knelt and thought of his ancestors: generations of Blutbaden, their ghostly apparitions watching him bend over a helpless Grimm, a being for whom Eddie was meant to harbor fear and hatred. But those things -- if he'd ever felt them -- had long bled from his heart, leaving instead an insidious warmth, like a banked fire waiting only for the fuel to rise to fevered pitch. He reached out a steady but hesitant hand and laid it aside Nick's head, thumb brushing floppy hair away from the pulse point at the man's temple. The motion was so soothing, Eddie repeated it until he realized he was petting the man's face and stopped.

"I am so screwed," Eddie murmured.

His lips shaped the words, 'forgive me' though he did not have the breath to give them life as he bent his head to kiss Nick's brow. He found the Grimm's skin warm, smooth, and inviting under his lips.

Eddie rose to his feet and ascended to what he knew would be a comfortless bed and a sleep without rest.

=

Nick woke to the smell of coffee. "Is that the real stuff?" he asked before he'd even opened his eyes.

"I promise," Eddie said, setting the mug within easy reach.

Taking his time, Nick slowly sat up, the blanket bunched around his waist as his naked feet settled on the floor. Eddie's shirtsleeves were too long for him, and bunched around his wrists. Nick ignored the blankets and sleeves and reached for the coffee. "What time is it?" he muttered.

"Not quite seven," Eddie said. "You want a shower?"

"No. No, thanks. I have time to run home and change."

"That's gourmet coffee," Eddie said. "It's meant to be savored, not poured down your gullet."

"Yeah, it's good," Nick agreed between gulps. He set aside the coffee to pull on his jeans, socks, and boots. "Thanks, Eddie, for everything. I mean it."

"I've lost track of the times you owe me," Eddie sighed, sitting in the arm chair.

Nick laughed. "Me, too."

"How's your side?"

"It pulls a bit if I stretch too much. Itches. So, it's fine, really."

"Good," Eddie said.

Nick swallowed the rest of the coffee and stood. Then he loaded his pockets with all his various things and slipped his coat on. He rolled his shirts into a ball and plucked up his keys. "I gotta go. Thanks, Eddie. Bye!"

Bemused, Eddie watched him disappear out the door. He sighed. "That's the second shirt he's taken."

=

Juliette lounged on the couch, her tablet balanced on upraised knees. Nick sat nearby, his laptop perched on his lap.

"Huh," Nick said. Again.

Juliette looked up from her Facebook page, but Nick was still absorbed with his computer. Usually, he used it to play games, so Juliette was accustomed to the constant tap-tap of the keys and the occasional groan of defeat. This -- whatever this was -- was different.

" _Huh_ ," Nick said again, with even more emphasis. "That's so weird…"

"Nick."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Have you ever read the original version of Sleeping Beauty? Did you know the Prince is the son of an ogress, and when he and Sleeping Beauty have two kids, she tries to eat them! It's crazy!"

"Is there any particular reason you're reading fairytales?"

"And in Cinderella, the stepsisters chop off parts of their feet to fit in the shoe!"

"Wow. Okay, Nick."

"And in this other version of Cinderella called Donkeyskin, there's like this whole incestuous-"

"I get it, Nick. Fascinating."

Nick looked up at her. "So," he asked, "what's up on Facebook?"

Juliette looked at her tablet's screen and sighed. "Nothing."

=

At the knock on his door, Eddie took his own sweet time about setting aside the Anniversary Mantle Clock he was repairing and wiping a weary hand over his face. He finally stood and opened the door to find Nick standing on the other side of it, looking awake, but still not himself.

They just looked at each other.

Eddie was the one to break the silence. "You practicing to be a lawn jockey or did you want to come in?"

Instead of answering, Nick asked, "Did I say weird shit last night?"

"I dunno," Eddie hedged, "what do you mean 'weird'."

"Oh. Guess I did then. Sorry."

"It's all right."

"We _are_ friends, aren't we, Eddie?"

"Well." Eddie shifted on his bare feet, "You're finally calling me by my first name, so I guess so."

"All right," Nick said. "All right, yeah." Then: "Um, nice boxers."

Eddie looked down at himself. "Well, I am a Spongebob fan."

"You strike me as more of a Scooby Doo guy."

"Funny. …You want a drink or something?"

"Nah. I've gotta swing by the grocery store and get home. I just… wanted to make sure we'll cool."

"Yeah. We're cool."

=

When Nick got home, Juliette was waiting.

No music, no TV, no little tablet computer illuminating her face with its bluish light. Just Juliette, pretty and sad on the couch in the dark.

"Um, hi?" Nick ventured.

"Nick, will you sit down?"

Nick padded quietly into the room and sat across from her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I… I don't know. I feel like there's something going on with you. Something that you're not telling me." When she paused, Nick said nothing. She went on, "You come home later every day, when you come home at all. You don't seem here even when you're with me. And so I'm just wondering if there's something going on, something you need to tell me."

Nick hesitated. "I don't… No. There's nothing."

"I feel like we used to have such an open relationship. It was always so easy to talk to you, but now when we talk, we don't say anything. Now, there's a… a door that's closed between us. A door that I don't have the key to."

"I… I'm sorry."

Juliette closed her eyes and turned her head away. "I guess I am, too."

=

Hunched over his work table, Eddie startled and a tiny spring went flying when an abrupt knock on the door broke his zen-like attention. "Fuck!" he gasped and then froze, letting himself calm before he resettled his tools on the table beside the many loose pieces and carefully stood to peer out a window. "Ah, fuck," he muttered. He collected himself, smoothed down his fuzzy sweater, and put on a stoic expression before he opened the door to reveal Juliette, her face smiling, but her stance nervous.

"Hi, Eddie."

"Hi. Juliette." He pronounced the name carefully; it settled like a foreign word on his tongue.

"I was wondering if I could come in?"

"Oh! Oh jeez, yeah, sure. I'm sorry; come in."

"Thanks. Actually," she said as she dug into her purse, "I came over to see if you could do me a favor." She withdrew a black felted necklace box. "I was going through a few things and these were hopelessly tangled in my jewelry box. I tried to pull the knots out, but… I think that just made it worse. But since you work on clocks, I thought you might have some little tools--"

"Oh, yeah. I bet I can take care of that, no problem. Bring 'em right on in here."

Juliette followed him into his work area. Eddie pushed aside the stiff cloth containing his current project and rolled out a soft white leather skin beneath the lighted magnifying glass he'd been using.

"All right," he said, turning to take the box from her. "Did you want a drink or something?"

"Oh, no. No, thanks; I'm fine," she said, clutching at her purse.

"You can have a seat if you like," Eddie said, but Juliette turned to admire the grandfather clock against the wall.

"Actually, do you mind if I look around? These are some really nice pieces."

"Have at it," Eddie allowed, as he deftly plucked the knotted gold and silver chains out of the box and laid them on the smooth leather work surface. He pinched each loose chain between skin and fingernail until the mess was laid out like a snowflake before him, each chain length pulled out like the leg of a starfish.

As Eddie pushed and prodded to loosen the knot, Juliette drifted along the perimeter of the room, examining the out-of-date decor among a variety of clocks, some of which hung still unfinished, waiting to be attended. She peered around corners, into the cozy den and the well-equipped kitchen. It didn't seem like a lonely place; it was obviously a well-lived in house, and not what she expected from a bachelor.

"So, does Nick come over much?" she asked, standing near the work table to examine a broken clock face.

'Oh, here we go,' thought Eddie. "Not much, no," he answered aloud as he unrolled a blue suede organizer that held a variety of small tools. "I don't care so much for the police station," he said, which was true enough, "so he bothers me here if something comes up." Eddie selected a pin and tweezers and began working the chains further apart. "It's a rare day he comes over on his own."

"That's too bad," Juliette said. "He really seems to like you. You should hang out more. Even if you do get him into bar fights."

Eddie made a noncommittal noise, then unhooked one of the chains to remove a small diamond pendant. "Classy piece," he said.

"Nick got that for me," she said from somewhere over his left shoulder. "Sill haven't figured out how he managed to pick it out; couldn't have done it himself."

Eddie offered the expected smile as he removed the first chain and slipped the pendant back on before clasping it. He rolled it in a twist of tissue paper to keep it apart and then returned his attention to the remaining tangle.

"I'm worried about him," Juliette went on.

Eddie stilled, but only for a moment. "Oh?" he asked, with as little interest as the word could possibly hold.

"I tried talking to him about it."

"And… how did that go?"

Juliette sighed. "Deflection all around. I think he learned it in the Force." She huffed out another breath and sat on the nearest chair. "I thought maybe… he'd been talking to you?"

"Why would he talk to me?" Eddie asked as he gently manipulated the two remaining chains, unwinding fourteen carat gold from sterling silver.

"Well, this is something new. Around the time he met you maybe. I just thought that maybe you'd know… something."

Eddie hmmed deep in his throat, like a growling sigh. He set down the pin and tweezers, turned toward Juliette, but didn't look at her. "I do know… something. But if he hasn't told you, then it's not my place to say anything about it."

Juliette looked away and sniffed, keeping in the tears of realization, realization that there really was some secret. "But, it's not… another woman."

"No! God, no. Nothing like that," Eddie said, turning back to the challenge of the knot. "No way. Look, I'll say this: he just wants to protect you."

"It's something illegal?"

"It's really not my place," Eddie said again. He could finally pull the two chains apart and he unkinked the silver one before wrapping it and setting it aside. "This gold one is old. Family?"

"My grandmother's," Juliette admitted.

"It's a bit tarnished," Eddie said, undoing a final knot as he examined it closely beneath the magnifying lens. "I can polish that up for you?"

"Sure," Juliette agreed, quiet, subdued.

Eddie retrieved a jar from a cabinet and set to the job quickly, but with finesse. "I still don't know much about the whole policeman thing," Eddie told her. "They say only a cop can understand another cop."

Juliette nodded. "Yeah; I've heard that a lot."

Eddie shrugged where he slumped in his seat, running the chain through the cloth over and over. "Maybe it's true."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like this will drift closer to AU as the series continues, but as of right now, Game Ogre will be inserted between Chapters 3 and 4.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Juliette struggle to keep it together after the Siegbarste's attack, and Eddie makes a confession.

Upon reflection, Juliette decided the damage to the house was nothing compared to the sight of Nick in the hospital. She knew that Nick would inevitably bring his work home. The cases he worked on would stay with him: the stresses of life and death situations, the accumulated memories of homicide and violence. She thought she could accept that, and it hadn't been a problem until recently. And certainly now, with the first floor of the house in shreds because a criminal had followed him home, and Nick laid up in the hospital because he'd had the holy crap beaten out of him by the suspect-- some asshole jacked up on who-knew-what and angrier than anything she'd ever seen.

Eddie Monroe -- oddly quiet -- had come like a ghost to the house to help clean up the glass, and give her half-hearted words of comfort. It was obvious he was uncomfortable there, but he was determined to help, to at least make the place livable.

Hank came after his shift, and together he and Juliette sorted through the debris, setting aside those things that needed repairs, those that didn't, and discarding what was irreparable.

Juliette's sister and brother-in-law brought help, and the men boarded up the windows until replacements could be ordered while the women gave the first floor a thorough cleaning. Afterwards, the men stood around the back porch drinking while the women stood in the kitchen, making more food than Juliette had any foreseeable need for.

By the time Nick was released -- his healing proceeding surprisingly well -- there wasn't much left to do. They went through the insurance forms together, made dinner, called the glass-repair place, and sat together on the sofa where they tried to achieve something like normalcy. 

"I went over to Eddie's place," Juliette said during a commercial break. "He untangled those necklaces, no problem."

"That's good."

"Yeah. You know, I was kind of surprised by his house. It was strangely old-fashioned, a bit shabby in places perhaps, but very put-together, you know. And those sweaters he wears! So… is he gay?"

Nick blinked at her, and flashed back to a mistletoe kiss at Christmas. "What?" he asked, completely thrown.

"Well, he doesn't have a particularly 'gay' vibe. Only, he doesn't strike me as exactly straight, either."

"Ah," Nick answered, unsure how to proceed. "Well. One of his ex-girlfriends showed up a while back."

"And how did that go?"

Nick made a face. "Not well."

"Right."

So they had a normal conversation and ignored the boarded-up windows, had a normal dinner and ignored the missing blender and vase, had a normal evening even if they were short a coffee table and lamp. 

And when she wanted to make love that night, he turned away, still in too much pain to do anything but sleep.

=

Eddie was in the middle of a new cello piece when the phone rang. His previously solitary life had accustomed him to ignoring it, but now that he knew Nick, every ring held the fear of bad news. He rested the cello on its side to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

_"Eddie? It's Juliette."_

"Hi. What's up?"

_"Is Nick at your place?"_

"No. Haven't seen him since he got out of the hospital."

_"Do you have any idea where he might be? He's not answering his phone and Hank said he left work like usual, didn't mention anything."_

"I'm sorry, Juliette; I haven't heard from him."

_"All right. Thanks anyway. Sorry to bother you."_

"It's no bother. I hope he turns up. Good night."

_"Night."_

Directly after hanging up, Eddie put his instrument away properly, slid on his shoes, pulled on his coat, and headed out to his little yellow Bug.

=

The trailer storage lot was deserted aside from Nick's car. The door to the vintage silver trailer was unlocked and Eddie slipped inside. Nick was asleep at the table, his head resting on a pile of old books. His cellphone sat beside him and Eddie gave it a quick poke. 

Eddie stood and stared a moment, taking in the sleeping form, at awkward rest with his bad arm tucked in toward his stomach and the other dangling loosely at his side. Eddie cleared his throat. When that elicited no response, he tried, "Wake up."

Nothing.

"You. Grimm. Up. Wake up!"

"Huh!" Nick jerked upright, a piece of notepaper momentarily stuck to his cheek. "Oh, owwwwww…" he whined, pressing his right hand to the left -- previously dislocated -- shoulder. "I thought I had magic healing powers, but everything still hurts."

"Accelerated," Eddie corrected. "I wouldn't say magical. How's that doing?" he asked, indicating the scrape along Nick's forehead and the bruise blooming in a riot of color on his cheek. 

"Oh, that's fine. Mostly it's my ribs; sometimes I just forget not to move so fast. Hurt like a bitch…"

"Well, you're lucky you're a Grimm. Anyone else would have been pulverized."

"Gee, thanks. …So, what brings you by, exactly?"

"Juliette called me. Wanted to know if I'd seen you."

"Oh. Shit." Nick pushed himself to his feet and looked at the windows, realizing the day's light had gone. "Thanks."

"Your phone's dead."

"Damn," Nick said and picked it up, vainly pushing buttons and getting no response.

"So, what's going on with you?"

Nick slipped the phone away and blew out a huff of breath. "I'm going to tell Juliette."

"Yeah." Eddie slowly nodded. "You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just means: I know that's the kind of guy you are. You get in trouble, your girl gets in trouble… that's a wake-up call. You think it's the right thing to do, so of course you're gonna tell her. So, what's the hold-up?"

"How on earth do I get her to believe me?" He threw his arms wide as though to encompass the entirety of the trailer. "Even if I show her all of this, it's easier to believe my aunt was nuts and that it runs in the family than that I'm the descendant of a race of people destined to fight fairytale creatures."

"It _would_ be easier to believe that you're nuts, yeah," Eddie easily agreed. He went on, "It's true that humans _usually_ can't see our… other traits. But there are ways around that."

"Really?" Nick asked. "Cause I've been going through all this stuff and haven't found a thing."

"Well the easiest way would be some kind of fairy salve. Normally, it's hard to come by, and it's not exactly in high demand these days, but I wouldn't be surprised to find some in here. Your aunt was totally stocked!"

"Well, that's great," Nick said, turning to a spice rack that definitely wasn't furnished with spices, "…What am I looking for?"

"Well, that's the hard part," Eddie said, stooping to examine the spinner on the card catalog. "Uh, every manufacturer had their own recipe and gave it their own name, so it could be labelled anything; I've heard it called Fee Salbe, Elfrahm, Kobold Balsam, Duergarcreme…"

They went through a variety of cupboards and drawers before Nick popped up and said, "Ah-ha! What about this?" He handed Eddie a tiny tin jar that turned out to be an antique pillbox, but labelled in the same careful hand as almost everything else in the trailer. The label read 'Seelie-See-All.' 

Eddie twisted the lid off and grinned. "That should do it. There's just a tiny bit left, but all you need is a dab," he said of the coagulated pearlescence gathered around the bottom edge. It shone like ground opals or beetle shells.

"Great," Nick said. "…So how does it work?"

"I am occasionally boggled by the depths of your ignorance," Eddie told him, recapping the tin.

"Well, I didn't grow up hearing stories about Blutbaden and Jagerbars. This is like… someone handed me a foreign-language dictionary and expected me to make sense of it all without context. I can't be fluid in a language I didn't even know existed less than a year ago." 

"Okay, fair point. Also, that's a pretty good analogy." Then, Eddie became abruptly silent, lips slightly parted and brows narrowed in deep thought.

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing. I'm not thinking anything."

"You were. I could see it, just… _there_." Nick poked Eddie in the center of his forehead.

"Hey! Well, I was thinking: you can't just tell Juliette and expect her to doubt you; that's a little too cynical for you, don't you think? This stuff," Eddie held up the tin, "should be… a Plan B sort of thing. Cause really, what were you gonna do? Take her to the local dives and hope to run into something less than human? Cause that _really_ wouldn't go well."

"No, you're right. I hadn't thought that far ahead. What's your Plan B then?"

"Well, dumb-ass, you are friends with a tame Blutbad."

Nick couldn't hide the smile that curled at his lips. "Yeah, I am," he said softly, then smiled wore widely. "Don't think you can trick me, though. You might be Wieder, but you're not tame."

Eddie mock growled and turned to go before his own grin could grow too wide. "Give me a call, then, if you need me. I'll hold onto this. You better get home."

"Right." Nick said. "Home."

=

The strange thing was that even when a Blutbad mock-growled, it was still a real growl, and Nick felt the resonance of it low in his belly as though some latent Grimm sense was kicking in and telling him to be careful. He carried that tuning-fork ring with him the whole way home.

His injuries from the Siegbarste's assault slowed his usual trot up the front steps of the house. He shut the door behind him and asked, "Juliette?"

Juliette looked up from the dining room table. Nick's cold dinner sat waiting at his usual place. She still sat before her plate, empty but for a few crumbs and smears. Juliette had eaten -- probably long ago -- and she sat with her arms crossed, watching him.

Nick slowed as he approached and said again, quietly, "Juliette."

"Where were you."

"I fell asleep. My phone was dead. I'm sorry."

Juliette wearily rubbed her eyes and forehead. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"Yes."

Her posture shifted from something angry and defensive to something more open and interested. "Yes?"

"Yeah. Do you… want to come into the living room? Or--"

"I'm fine here."

"Okay." Nick pulled out a chair to sit close to her. When he sat, he leaned in to look closely at her, finding both pain and patience in her expression.

"Well?" she asked.

"Um. Not sure where to start," he confessed. "So," he looked toward his own feet. "My Aunt Marie, she was special, different from regular people."

When he stopped, Juliette said, "So, this is about your aunt?"

"That's how this all started, yeah."

"How what started?"

"Uh, kind of everything. Did you know that fairytales are… based on real things?"

"Lots of myths are," Juliette hesitatingly agreed.

"Right," Nick answered. He stared at Juliette's expectant expression, licked his lips, and blew out a long breath. "This is really hard."

"Oooo-kay. So, what do fairytales have to do with your aunt?"

"She knew the truth behind them," Nick said. It sounded more like a suggestion than a statement. He went on more firmly, "She knew that all of those creatures in the stories-- they're real."

Juliette blinked owlishly at him. "What do you mean, 'real'?"

"I mean," Nick told her, his eyes wide and earnest, "they exist. Today. All around us. Beasts and… pigs and bears and wolves--"

"You mean animals?"

"No, I mean… things that are -- sort of animals, I guess -- but they look like people. They look… normal. To you. But I-- I can see them. So could Aunt Marie. We can see the creatures for what they really are. We're called Grimms."

Juliette frowned deeply, taking all this in. Her lips thinned into a taut line. She sat forward, paused, then stood and retrieved her purse.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Marianne's, I guess. She's closest. Listen, let me know when you want to grow up and tell me the truth."

Nick didn't even think to make a reply until long after the door had closed, leaving him in silence.

=

Eddie wasn't the least bit surprised when his phone rang. "Monroe."

_"It's Nick."_

"How'd it go?"

_"She didn't believe a word of it."_

"You want me to bring the salve o--"

_"No. She took off, went to hang with one of her girlfriends."_

"Probably just needs to cool down."

_"I guess."_

"So… you want me to come over?"

_"I have beer."_

"Sold."

=

"Place looks good," Eddie said after Nick let him in. "New windows working out all right?"

"Yeah. If only they were ogre-proof."

Eddie snickered. "Trust me: no such thing."

They each grabbed a beer from the fridge and parked themselves in front of the TV. Nick hunted for the remote and turned on something bright and flashing that required no attention whatsoever. He retrieved a box from the end table and began eating something that looked like chocolate but made crunching noises as he chewed.

Eddie stared.

"Oh," Nick said, holding out the box. "Want some?"

Eddie wrinkled his nose. "I'm not eating something called a _Chocoroom_."

"It's just as well," Nick said, popping another one into his mouth. "They don't really go with beer."

Eddie sniffed the air, detecting the cooked food that had been sitting out. "You eat dinner?"

"No. Don't make a fuss, please. I just want to chill out."

Eddie said, "All right," but muttered something that sounded like, ' _I don't fuss…_ '

They watched the TV, drank their beer, and snacked on whatever Nick pulled out of his stash. When one show ran into another and Nick's eyelids began to droop, Eddie turned off the lights. The change in atmosphere perked Nick up, and he glued his eyes to the current infomercial proclaiming the accolades of the latest diet pill. 

He abruptly turned to Eddie and asked, "Why clocks?"

Eddie regarded him with both confusion and skepticism. "What do you mean 'why clocks'? Why clocks what?"

"Why do you fix them?"

"You mean, why'd I choose it as a career?"

"Well, yeah."

Eddie shrugged. "Well, when I was eighteen, I killed my high school sweetheart. And that's why I became a clockmaker."

"Okay," Nick said, muting the TV and sitting up straight. "First: What? Secondly: … _WHAT?!_ "

It wasn't something Eddie wanted to talk about, but it was easier in the dark, when he couldn't see the intensity in gray Grimm eyes, and he suspected it was something he'd have to confess eventually. "She was in the marching band. It was the summer after we graduated. We were both virgins. We decided to have sex. She wanted to do it at my place; my family would have smelled it for a week. I wanted to do it at her house, but her mom was always there. The street I lived on ended at a dense forest that climbed up a hill; I convinced her to meet me out there. She would bring the blanket, and I'd bring the condoms.

"I was running late, but I could smell her; I knew she was out there. She'd left the blanket rolled out in the clearing. I followed her scent and called out. I heard her laughing. I saw something flash between the trees. Something red. I remember what happened. I wish I didn't. I laughed back at her and called out again. I chased her through the trees. She thought it was a game. So did I. Until I felt the growl in my throat, the hunger… I don't think a human can understand. There was something of lust in it. And a visceral thirst. I was chasing her, thinking I'd have her in the end. But her red dress taunted me at every turn, and when I finally caught her, it was with my claws outstretched. 

"She screamed and ran for real, then. But a teenage girl can't outrun a Blutbad in his prime. I pinned her down and I-- I wasn't even undressed, but I sort of thrust at her, and I tore into her throat, and she was dead. And I… realized what I'd done.

"And I ran away from home. To my uncle in Renton. And he taught me how to walk the path of the Wieder, and he taught me how to fix clocks. See, if you don't want to kill people, the best thing to do is to stay away from them. So I stay inside, and do things that I can do alone. Pilates. Cello. Cooking. Fixing clocks. 

"Then, you came along. You! The most… I never thought there could be such a thing as an innocent Grimm. And I knew the best thing I could do was stay away from you. But there was something in you that spoke to me, and I knew you'd get yourself killed if I didn't help you. So I helped you. And I keep helping you. And if that needs to stop now that you know what I did, then I'll live with it." 

Nick listened to all this, his wide eyes trained on Eddie's profile the entire time. "I knew there was something in your past," he finally told the Blutbad. "But this isn't going to change anything between us. Thank you. For telling me."

Eddie's jaw clenched as he closed his eyes, a spectrum of emotions coloring his pained expression. Nick saw loss there; he saw regret, self-loathing, an old ache, grief, fear… but why fear?

"You aren't afraid of me, are you?" Nick asked, haltingly quiet in the silent room, with the only light from the gleaming television.

"I'm always afraid of you," Eddie confessed, his eyes open again but still avoiding his companion. "It's the wolf in me that smells the Grimm in you. That's not going to go away."

"I'm sorry."

Eddie heard it in the depth of Nick's voice, how sorry he was. For everything. Even those things so far in the past they were beyond his reach. 

=

When Juliette crept in at one in the morning, she found the TV casting its flickering blue light over Nick and Eddie, who lay slumped on the couch. Eddie's head had lolled over onto Nick's shoulder-- his good one, fortunately.

The coffee table was littered with empty beer bottles and the wrappings of what looked like the entire candy aisle of the Fubonn Shopping Center.

"Men," she muttered.

Nick made no motion at the sound of her soft voice, but Eddie's eyes slipped open and he swung his head around to look at her. He set the TV remote aside and stretched and eased himself to his feet, careful not to disturb Nick. "Hey," he whispered as he approached Juliette in the darkness. "I didn't mean to nod off on your couch; he wanted some company."

"What's going on with him?"

"Well," Eddie said, "Whatever it is, it's probably the biggest personal conflict he's ever known." He picked up his coat from the arm of the couch and dug into the pocket for his car keys. "Oh, d'you want me to clean up at all?" he asked, glancing at the mess on the table.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. And look: I know things are tough right now, but he really is trying to do the right thing by you."

"…Am I supposed to know exactly what you mean by that?"

"Not yet, I guess," Eddie said. "Good night." He slouched out the door and it clicked closed behind him.

Juliette sighed and looked at Nick, dead to the world with his head fallen along the back of the couch. She looked at the TV and the old black and white movie playing on TCM. "Oh yeah, he's gay," she muttered before shuffling up to bed.


End file.
